The First Quarter Quell
by hismagicaleye
Summary: This story follows one of the contestants in the first Quarter Quell.
1. Chapter 1

The First Quarter Quell

District 11

"As you all know I'm sure, today is the reaping for the 25th Hunger Games," Janessa Bauble, the escort for District 11, drawls. Because of her accent there is an odd pause between each word and emphasis on every word, making the words sound odd and clipped.

"And- It –Certainly- Will- Be -A –Remarkable- One-Too," she continues," May-I-Please-Draw-Your-Attention-To-The-Screen."

I do not look to the screen immediately as she says, but scan the crowd at first, watching people's confused faces.

The familiar white text shows up on the screen.

25 Years Ago The Capitol Overcame The Rebellion

To Commemorate This Event We Will Be Having The First Ever Quarter Quell

The video cuts to a video of Caesar Templesmith, this year he has gone with silver, his hair shines along with his eyelids and lips, which all look like they've been dipped in a thick layer of liquid silver. It makes him look very robot-like.

"Hey Folks! Since this is the first ever Quarter Quell, I'm here to do some explaining. You see long ago, when the Hunger Games were first being planned, the Gamemakers decided every 25 years, the games would have a special twist. He smiles brilliantly, his shining lips spread wide.

"And this year's twist is," he pauses before pulling out a yellow envelope, then begins to read from the card.

"This year tribute from each district will not be reaped, but elected. All district citizens will vote for a girl and boy tribute to compete. You have one hour. Good Luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The crowd is quiet. A couple woman sob. I can't help but smile, imagining the uproar in districts like one and two.

When all is quiet again, Janessa speaks.

"Well-Isn't-That-Exciting! Because-Of-The-Large-Population-Here-In-District-11, We-Will-Have-Two-Hours-To-Vote."

Our Mayor, dark, tall, and handsome, comes to the stage. He looks nervous.

_Probably doesn't want to upset anyone_, I think, _remembering his two daughters, he doesn't want people to vote for them out of spite._

"Let's just give everyone some time to think, and then anyone who has a point or suggestion will be able to speak." He pauses to look at the huge clock that is now on the screen. He begins to say something but else but gives up.

A thought hits me, I could volunteer. It's not like I haven't pictured myself in the games before, but this time, I think about it seriously, not to win, but to save someone else.

I'm an orphan so it's not like I have to worry about my family. My parents were rebels from District 13. They managed to hide in District 11 after the war ended, but were eventually found by the Capitol. They did get the last laugh however, in the form of a baby girl, a last survivor of sorts, from District 13. Because that's me, the survivor. Orphans almost never survive because there's no extra food to give, but I'm smart.

My brain kicks into high gear and my thoughts come quickly, rapid and jumbled.

I could really do it, volunteer to go, go into the hunger games, I won't kill anyone, and I'll try to save anyone I can, and then, then I'll die, but not murdered brutally and hastily by a Neanderthal from District 2, but on my own terms. I imagine the scene, I walk slowly out of my hiding spot, into the view of a fellow contestant so they'll have to show it, say calmly and quietly, For District 13, then kill myself, most likely with poison, I hate the idea of bleeding to death, I want it to be fast.

I smile then look around. Everyone looks so conflicted and worried, just another extra push for me to do what I've planned.

I walk up to edge of the stage.

"Excuse me," I ask Jenessa, "Could I borrow that microphone for a minute?"

She smiles and hands it to me. Could I have seen sympathy in her adorned eyes? I shake it off.

I take a deep breath.

"Um, Hello? I know he said we'd talk later but I want to say something."

"My name is Skylar Langdon. I would like you all to vote for me as the tribute. I have no family. Having me go saves everyone else a lifetime of grief."

The cameras are all on me. I'm probably being broadcast to all of District 11, maybe even all of Panem.

I hate public speaking. I want to say more, but my mind seems to stop working.

"Once again, Skylar Landon."

I hand Janessa the microphone back and head back into the crowd, meeting every eye I can.

Author's Note

Her parents left District 13 because they saw it wasn't going to be any better and hated the idea of being controlled so much. She doesn't know that though because she never got a chance to talk to them after they died.


	2. Chapter 2

District 11

After about twenty minutes the Mayor arrives back on stage.

"Well," he announces, looking strained, "Would anyone like to speak?"

One of the bigger men speaks, "We should send our strongest, it's our best chance of winning."

An old lady calls out, "That won't help, our kids aren't skilled with weapons or in fighting."

"What we really need to decide," the Mayor says solemnly, "Is if we are sending our best to win, or sacrificing the weak."

He sweeps the crowd, looking for me, I presume. I step out of my hiding spot and send him a meaningful gaze. He meets my gaze for a second, before speaking again.

"Before we go into an ethics debate, are there any volunteers?"

I practically leap for the stage. But to my surprise, I'm not the only one. Another girl, large and thick, is there too. I glare at her. What is she doing, doesn't she get that no matter how strong she is, she has no chance of winning?

She grabs for the microphone, "Vote for maarghh-."

I clap my hand over her mouth.

"Excuse me, Mayor? Can we talk privately?"

He gives a noncommittal grunt, and we walk of the stage into a nearby warehouse.

She glares at me," Don't you dare try to convince me you not to volunteer."

I ignore her remark and ask, "How are you going to fight in the arena? Any strategies? Can you use any weapons? Are you fast? Were you going to join the careers? Have you thought about what the arena's going to be like? How good are you at foraging? What' the longest you've gone without food?"

She stares back at me dumbly.

"Look," I say softly, "The chance of you winning is less than 5%. That's without even accounting for the fact other districts are trained in various weapons."

She stares back mutely.

"Just, just imagine what would happen if you did die," I insist desperately.

We leave the warehouse somberly. She heads back into the crowd, I onto the stage.

_There's one life_, I think.

Playing on the screen is clips from other districts. Districts 1, 5, and 7, already have their victors. I glance at the clock. We've got about an hour left and I assume we're going to need at least an hour for everyone to vote.

As I walk back on stage a voice cries out, "What? What about the other one?"

"She changed her mind, and you're not going to make her go unwillingly are you?" I respond, not even attempting to hide the edginess in my voice.

The crowd's silence is a good enough response.

Janessa is back on stage. "Anyone-Else?"

Nothing.

"Well-Alrighty-Then. Let-The-Voting-Begin!"

Everyone is shuffled into lines. At the end is a machine. I'm excited to use machine. I've read a lot about the technology in the Capitol but have never gotten to see it, never mind use it.

When it is my turn, I do not dawdle.

Skylar Langdon, I type, pausing when the blank for the boy's name appears. I pick a perfectly normal boy, one I'm sure of no one will vote for.

Soon everyone's done and we are shuffled back into the square.

Janessa springs on to the stage, "The-Votes-Are-In! And-Your-Tributes-Are!" She pauses for effect.

"Skylar Langdon."

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"And Roran Fields. "

He must live in the southern part of District 11 because instead of coming to the stage, his picture shows up on the screen. He is tall and skinny (just like everyone else).He doesn't look particularly strong or vicious, I can't help but wonder why they picked him.

Janessa grabs my wrist and I'm pulled away.

The Mayor is waiting for us in the judicial building, it looks the same as it did two years ago, and it brings back a flood of memories I've learned very well to dam.

I pull away from the building like its poison.

"I don't have anyone to say goodbye to," I state.

The mayor gives me a questioning look, but says nothing, just signals for me to be taken to the train.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: 1) I apologize for taking so long and 2) I edited the previous chapters. Hope you like it!

The train is sleek and luxurious, something I find hilarious. Because you know, when you're sending kids off to their deaths, comfort is a must.

I glance over at Janessa as she enters the room.

"We'll-Be-Stopping-Soon," She announces. I give a small nod of acknowledgement and return my gaze to the window, once again fixating my attention on the television screen next to me. I've been watching all the reapings carefully, paying attention to every detail. District One's tributes, Aphrodite and Ares, are brother and sister, something I'm sure is in no way a coincidence. The boy looks about my age, maybe 14 or 15, the girl is maybe 17. They both look confident and strong and the absolute image of what the Capitol wants. _Great. _

It seems every other district has voted the same way, their tributes are all strong and powerful, with a few exceptions of course, the girl from 3 is small and thin, and has an air of insanity that makes me fear her more than any of the others. How am I supposed to predict what a crazy person is going to do?

Lost in my thoughts, I fail to notice the train has stopped and someone has entered the room. The sudden appearance frightens me and I let out a small scream. The boy, who looks about 17, stares at me, his brown eyes assessing me. I stare back.

Finally, seeing no threat, he smiles before introducing himself.

"I'm Roran."

"Skylar."

He laughs suddenly. "Isn't District 4 lucky? Getting such _wonderful _tributes as us," he exclaims, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I can't help but smile, "Oh totally, two killing machines like us." He glances at the screen, "Oh hey are those the others?"

I nod, then add, "They're all huge. Well I mean most of them are."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly, before heading for the food. So far I've eaten very little so I won't stretch out my stomach, I can't let myself get used to a lot of food. He, however, pigs out. Janessa enters the room with a middle-aged man. The man introduces himself as Fallon Grace, the only winner of the Hunger Games from District 11, and tells us he will be our mentor. I can't help but think how much it must suck to be the only winner, every year having to mentor kids who don't have a chance.

Later, at dinner, we all sit around a huge table full of weird foods. The meat has an odd blue color to it, something Janessa says they add to make it look more colorful, so I stick to fruits and vegetables. Roran shrugs and takes a big bite of the meat. "Might as well enjoy life while I can, right?"

"Hey! Now-That-Is-No-Way-To-Talk!" Janessa exclaims, "I-Think-You'll-Win."

Roran laughs. His laugh is so familiar it hurts.

He must notice my sudden sadness, but before he can say anything Fallon speaks.

"Okay, so I think we should come up with a strategy."

"Don't die," Roran states. I drag myself back to the conversation, leaving the dark thoughts behind.

"My plan was to hide," I offer. Fallon nods eagerly, "Smart. Do either of you happen to know how to use any weapons? " Roran and I both shake our heads.

"Any special skills that might come in handy?" Again we shake our heads.

"Ah! Well, you guys have time for all that soon, let's talk more later then, I say Janessa have you had the mango sauce? It is absolutely wonderful!"

Abruptly, it hits me, he must've done the same things, eaten the same foods, sat in the same chairs, talked about the same things. I push away from the table and run to my room, leaving no explanation, no way am I letting them see me cry. Memories are breaking through my carefully constructed barrier, his laugh, his stupid jokes, how carefree he was, even with the Peacekeepers chasing after us. And then the bad ones start:

It's last year's reaping, the girl tribute has been picked and now Janessa is reaching for the slip from the boy's bowl, her nails, decorated to resemble an apple, pluck a slip out. She slowly unfolds it, Jace leans over and whispers to me, "You know, I'm surprised Capitol people can even read with all that wired crap on their eyes." I nod and add, "I'm surprised they can even read, they must have something wrong with their brains to act like that." He nods in agreement, "Maybe that's how they pick the escorts, whoever can read gets the job." I'm looking at his face when she calls his name. His face falls for a second, but he doesn't hesitate to leave our spot in the back of the crowd to go to the stage.

Later, we're in the judicial building, and I'm crying. He looks at me, and for the first time ever he is serious.

"Look, I'm not going to promise I'm going to come back, but, whatever happens, I want you to know that, in the most friend-like way possible, I love you."

And then I'm watching him on TV. He's charming and calm and I want to cry every time I see him. They dress him up in a suit that probably cost more money than he could have ever had in his life and ask him questions about home. In his answer he talks about his "sister" Skylar.

Then the games begin and in what is the worst 4 days of my life, I watch the screen constantly screaming and crying. The arena is a swamp. On the first day he escapes into the swamp with a small pack and a spear. The second day he is attacked by a mutated alligator. His left leg is completely gone and I am screaming . He manages to kill it with the spear and get to a safe spot where he bandages the stump that used to be a leg with strips of his jacket. He is in so much pain. I am scared, so very scared, but he camouflages himself and lives another day. The fourth day however, the Careers find him, the red from his bleeding leg gives him away. They tie him to a nearby tree where one of the Careers has "throwing practice." After each knife hits him the girl will say "stomach", or "lung," before final hitting his heart. The cannon fires. They leave the last knife in his body. I am dying.

I sob into my pillow, trying to stop reliving it, to plug the flood of memories, but as always, I drown.


End file.
